What About Leila
by Aryea
Summary: Haven't you wondered what happened in Ana's apartment with Christian and Leila? I did so here's the story as I see it! ;
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: All characters belong to E.L. James. I have received many requests regarding a POV of Christian for the time he spent with Leila in Ana's apartment. I had not intended to write it, as I was not sure how it would flow, but the more I thought about it the more it ate at me until finally I had to write it down.

_ SPOILER ALERT_ for Fifty Shades Darker as there is some of the original dialogue direct from the book, hopefully E.L. James will forgive me as I am only using it as a point of reference. I do not like to write in 1st person, as the book and many other writers have done for the Fifty Shades trilogy, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway.

As always, please let me know how you like it, via review, PM, E-mail or renting a plane to sky-write it if you are as wealthy as Christian Grey. :)

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Christian burst through the door and spotted Leila with a gun pointed at the woman he loved. No! He stepped forward and his gaze swept over Anastasia, assuring himself that she was all right, then he turned to Leila and the fury inside of him continued to build, until it threatened to overwhelm him. All the pain she has caused, all the sorrow and fear and now she was holding a gun on Anastasia. How dare she! How dare she disrupt his life this way and forget the rules!

His emotions churned, feeling anger one moment and sorrow the next. He had to focus, he had to consider what she might have done to Anastasia had they not come looking for her. He had to maintain control. This woman could have hurt Ana, might have even killed her, and it was his fault for not finding Leila sooner.

He stared at the thin, dirty waif standing before him and realized that this creature wasn't the Leila he knew, the woman he had been in a six month relationship with. His heart ached for her, then he focused on the gun in her hand and his pity turned to anger again, to fury. Taylor moved forward and Christian held up his hand to warn him back. He needed to deal with Leila, and no one else.

Leila finally met Christian's gaze and he could see the confusion, the madness and yes, the jealousy and anger in her eyes. Her hand twitched on the weapon and he felt a moment of panic, before he forced himself to regain control. His eyes burned into hers, he saw fear, shame, and then finally longing. He had seen that look before and he could use it, he would use whatever he had to, to keep Anastasia safe and defuse the situation.

He focused on Leila, allowed her to see his displeasure and yes, his desire, but his desire was for Anastasia, not for Leila. He uses images of Anastasia to allow Leila to think his desire is for her and Leila responded as she always had, lust parted her lips, quickened her breath and made her eyes flash at the idea of whatever punishment he might have for her. Before he could stop it, his body responded to the memory of Leila in his playroom, of the way he used her and the feel of being inside her, but he forced that memory back and buried it deep.

He mouthed the word 'down', she immediately obeyed and his desire was squashed by relief as she dropped the gun and lowered to her knees in the submissive position. Thank God! He pulled himself back, he had to use their connection to keep her compliant. He could control her, and confident in that knowledge he walked over and retrieved the cursed gun that had skittered across the floor. He hated guns, but he placed it in his jacket pocket anyway, just in case.

"Anastasia, go with Taylor." He needed her out of here, away from here and safe so he could deal with Leila and keep her focused on him. He doesn't know what the other woman might do if Anastasia remained. She could snap at any time.

"Ethan."

"Downstairs." Christian wanted to look at Anastasia, to re-assure her, to tell her he loved her, but he couldn't risk breaking his link with Leila. He needed her focused solely on him and only him. If she saw even a hint that he preferred Anastasia to her, it might throw her off the edge entirely. "Anastasia!"

When Anastasia refused to move Christian's fear for her safety grew. Why didn't she ever listen? Leila might look compliant now, she appeared still as a stone, but he could see the tensing of her muscles; he knew her body and as fragile as her mental state was at the moment she could break from his control in an instant if she thought he wasn't paying enough attention to her. He needed Anastasia gone!

He moved closer to Leila, keeping himself between her and the woman he adored in case she attacked. "For the love of God, Anastasia, will you do as you're told for once!" He glanced away from Leila, hoping the barrier of his body would be enough to subdue her if their connection broke, if her mind fractured. His fear made him sound angry, hurtful, but he didn't care. He would do whatever he had to, to get Anastasia out of here! "Taylor, take Miss. Steele downstairs, now."

"Why?" Anastasia whispered.

Christian could feel the sharp ragged pain of panic crawl up his spine as he witnessed the shock, the devastation and fear in Ana's eyes. Did she think he wanted to stay here? Didn't she know he wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms and run with her back to Escala, where they could be alone and safe?

"Go." He swallowed, hard, afraid that all of this would be too much and Anastasia would go, would run from him, leave him. "Back to the apartment," he added, needing her to do that for him, to go home and wait for him and understand that he wasn't casting her aside, that he wasn't really choosing Leila over her. If he didn't deal with this now they would never be rid of Leila and the threat that she represented. "I need to be alone with Leila." He held Anastasia's fearful, confused gaze in his, hoping she could read the plea in his eyes and that she would give him time, time to deal with this and time to get back to her, to apologize and make things right! His eyes implored her not to run, not to throw away his second chance, but he knew he might be doing just that.

Taylor attempted to reach Anastasia, to entice her to go with him and still she stood and stared with a horrified look that reached into Christian's soul and shattered him to pieces. This was it. She knows now what he is, what he is capable off and the knowledge of that almost caused his heart to stop beating.

"Taylor." He looked to the other man to deal with Anastasia and is relieved as Taylor finally scooped Anastasia into his arms and walked out. Yes. God, yes. Get her out of here, away from this filth and pain and madness.

He turned back at a small whimper from Leila and absently stroked her hair, letting her know he was staying. He waited until Anastasia and Taylor disappear from view, and then turned his full attention to the woman kneeling beside him.

"Why are you here, Leila?"

"To see her. To see the one."

"You are not permitted to see her. Do you understand?"

She stared at the floor, distressed.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, sir."

"You are not permitted to talk to her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

He crouched down to be eye level with her and lifted her chin, held her gaze with his. "You need help, Leila."

"I need you."

"I can't help you."

"You can make the pain go away."

"No. I can't. I can only cause you pain. Do you understand?"

She shook her head as a tear slid down her face. "Please, Master. Please? I need it. I need you to…to take me away from…from everything."

She started to reach for him, then pulled back, her fragile mental state at war with her need for him and the rules he had established. With him there were always rules, and that was what she required. She desired his rules. She wanted him to take control, to punish her, to tell her what to feel, how to think and to take her away from the confusion and pain and horror of her own feelings. She needed to be lost in his darkness to escape from her own.

"I can be what she is. I can do for you what she can." She stared into his eyes only because he allowed it, and his touch, even just his finger cupping her chin calmed her, aroused her and allowed her to feel safe. He could do that for her, only he had the power. "I can give you the pleasure she gives you. I pleased you before. Didn't I please you?"

Christian swallowed hard. Yes, she had pleased him. She was one of his best subs. She had always followed the rules, always allowed him control, always let him do whatever he needed to do to her body. He'd let himself slip a little with her, where he hadn't with the others. Enough that he allowed her vibrancy and mischievousness to filter into their tome together. She could be wonderfully playful at times; such as uploading secret songs on his IPOD or hiding his Dom jeans or leaving hand drawn characters of him around the apartment. Many times she did it so he would punish her, because she seemed to enjoy that most, and he obliged. But when it was time for the playfulness to stop, when he needed to resume control, she never questioned it.

And then, one day she asked for _more_. He knew it would happen, it always happened, but he'd had such high hopes for their relationship. He had truly liked her, enjoyed her and if he was honest with himself, she was the only sub he regretted losing. But he wasn't ready then to let anyone get close to him. He didn't believe he was capable or worthy of a real, fulfilling, hearts and flowers relationship with anyone. He wasn't that guy, couldn't be that guy, until Anastasia. Anastasia changed everything for him, but for Leila and all the ones that came before, the answer had always been no. He refused to string them along for his own purposes and let them think he would be more than a Dom or they would ever be more than a submissive. While he truly believed he did not have a heart, could not feel what others felt or deserved the caring feelings of other people, he was not cruel.

He hadn't questioned why Leila was so eager to please him, or why she was essentially the perfect submissive, because he was selfish enough to want to revel in the control she gave him. The same trust and control she allowed that led to such dark scenes to unfold in his playroom and the heady, animalistic sex that resulted. He needed his playroom, needed to punish women before having sex with them, because he was fucked up. Why hadn't he ever stopped to think why Leila allowed herself to be treated like that? Why hadn't he known she held this...fragility? Had he been so content with her eagerness to please him, with her desire to taste and explore the beast inside him that he hadn't bothered to consider why she did those things?

Perhaps he should have been more careful with her, but Leila let him release his darkness in a way none of his other subs, other than Elena, had ever allowed. He let himself get carried away with her far too often, but she seemed to enjoy it, crave it even. She had never, ever safe worded and he always made her feel better afterwards; always treated her to something special, after his demons had been exorcised through the abuse of her body.

The Dom/Sub relationship had to be a mutual one, and yes, many people did find it addicting or preferable to vanilla relationships, freeing in a way that could not be accepted by society's strict standards, but he never considered that there could be more to it than that. He never considered that other people might be just as fucked up as he to engage in it and he suddenly felt as if he had taken horrible advantage of Leila. A woman he truly liked and had only wanted to take care of, never to hurt, not like this.

"Fuck," he muttered grimly and was startled when Leila immediately rose, put her hands on the counter top and spread her legs. "No!" He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the space between. "Leila, that's not what…" He hissed when she returned, dropped to her knees before him and reached for the belt of his slacks. He slapped her hand away and stepped back, startled by her bold move; she had never been allowed to touch him, she knew that!

"I can be what she is," she insisted, desperately and reached for him again. "I can give you what she does."

Christian saw the manic anxiety return to her eyes and knew he was losing her to her own madness. "Leila, stop this…" He was startled when she tackled him and knocked them both to the floor. His lay frozen for several seconds, his extreme panic at being touched briefly overriding everything else.

She took the opportunity to crawl over him and pressed her mouth to his in a ferocious kiss, even as her nails clawed at his clothes.

Fuck! Fuck! Christian's deep-seeded fear compelled him to grab her and roll so she was pinned beneath him, with her hands firmly above her head.

"Yes! Fuck me, Master. Fuck me!" She bucked wildly against him and Christian tightened his knees around her hips.

"Stop!" he ordered and tried to calm his breathing and the frantic beating of his heart. The gun was in his jacket. If she'd realized…He shook away the fear and reverted to Dom mode again. "Be still." When she resisted he reached behind with his free hand and slapped her hard on the ass. "Obey!"

She went limp and some of the wildness left her eyes, but it was replaced with desire, lust and need. She waited, panting beneath him as he tried to ascertain what to do. He was so out of his depth here, but he had to fix this. He was responsible and he had to fix this.

When he heard Leila had married he had been happy for her, hoping that she could finally move on, but she obviously needed someone to control her, take care of her, and her husband hadn't done that or she would not have gone looking elsewhere.

He could only imagine her anger and confusion at seeing him and Anastasia together in the papers. He had never allowed himself to be photographed with his subs, never took them anywhere they could be viewed publicly. What she must have been thinking, already overwrought over the loss of her lover, the break up of her marriage and then, the only other man she had feelings for was with another woman, a woman that earned the right to be seen in public with him.

He tried to figure out what to do with her, how to help her. She was filthy, and obviously had not eaten in days. Her eyes were glassy, bloodshot, but she was listening to him again and if he had to use that dom/sub relationship to keep her calm until he could get her to a hospital that was what he would do.

He rose and stared down at her. "Come." He started towards the washroom, praying she followed and was relieved when she did. "I am going to bathe you now."

Leila kept her eyes downcast, felt the panic and fear start to rise in her again, but she pushed it down. Master had punished her when she misbehaved. He would punish her again and his punishments were harsh. She only wanted to please him. "Yes, Master." she whispered and started to remove her clothes.

Christian ran the water, used the distraction to quell his shaking hands and adjusted it until it was a nice warm temperature, then he ordered her to step in. She did so without argument and sat down, remaining still, with her head lowered.

"You will stay here, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."  
He stepped outside the bathroom and closed the door, quickly ran his hands through his hair, and then pulled out his phone. He called Flynn to get his ass over there and then he called Taylor, to check that Anastasia was okay. Taylor advised that Miss. Steele was having a drink with her house guest. The intense punch of rage nearly gutted him as he thought of Ethan taking advantage of Anastasia's vulnerable state, but again he had to reel it back. He had to deal with Leila. God damn it! The woman may have ruined everything he had tried to do with Anastasia, undone all his hard work in their relationship.

He stalked into Anastasia's room to cool off, found some clothes that he believed would fit Leila, then returned to the washroom. When he opened the door, he found her submerged beneath the water. "No!" He dropped the clothes on the floor and yanked her out of the water, where she started gagging and coughing.

"Let me die! Just let me die!"

"No, Leila! No!"

She struggled, clawed at his wrists and tried to drown herself again. "You left me! I'm all alone! I need to die!"

"Leila, stop!" Panicked he caught her wrists in one hand and her chin in the other. "I'm here, Leila. You're not alone. I'm here."

"You don't want me!" she moaned and tried to pull away again, but she was weak from hunger and exhaustion and Christian was so much stronger. "Please, let me die. Just let me die."

"I won't let you die!" He racked his brain for what to do, then finally decided. He toed off his shoes, slid her forward and stepped in behind her. "I'm here," he whispered and settled into the tub, clothes and all. This always calmed Anastasia, perhaps it would work with Leila. "I'm right here, Leila."

She was momentarily dazed by his actions, but after a moment, she allowed him to pull her back against him. The scent of him, feel of him reminded her of why she was here. She needed to be better than the other woman. She needed to prove she could be what he wanted her to be. She relaxed and tried to remember that he needed control, that she needed to submit.

Relieved that she had settled down, and having effectively cut off her ability to drown herself, he reached for the scrubby on the corner rack beside him. "You have made people worry, Leila." He lathered the scrubby with lavender scented body wash. "You have made me worry."

She hung her head, knowing that was inexcusable. She must never make Master worry about her. "I'm sorry, Master."

Christian gently washed her arms, her breasts, then reached forward and washed her legs. "Move forward." She leaned forward and he quickly washed her back. It wasn't perfect but he couldn't risk getting out and having her try to kill herself again. He rinsed the scrubby and set it back on the shelf before picking up the shampoo. "I'm going to wash your hair now." He told her this to keep her calm and focused on his voice and not the voices in her head telling her to die.

Better people than he would need to break her infatuation with him; he would only make things worse. He felt her relax beneath his fingers. Leila had always enjoyed this part, after the playroom, of him bathing her, as had he, but it was different than what he and Anastasia had shared. He would never have climbed in with his subs, never allowed them to wash him, certainly wouldn't have allowed them the option of felatio, as he had Anastasia. These things had been kept separate, apart. In this instance he had needed to make an exception.

"We must get you clean, Leila. You must promise me to stay clean from now on."

"Yes, Master."

"If you want to please me, you have to take care of yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." he almost sighed in relief at her compliance. "When we are finished here, I will take you to a place where they will help you…."

"No!" Panic caused her to lash out and grab his wrist. "Let me stay with you! Please! I can give you what she can!" She pulled his hand between her legs. "I am yours to do with as you will. I will always be yours…"

Christian snatched his hand back as if scalded and rose from the tub. Fuck! This was not what he wanted! He stepped out and willing himself to not show his anger or his dismay. He had to get through to her; had to make her understand that he didn't want her, that they couldn't be together. But how could he do that without shattering her delicate emotions? He wanted to take care of her, to calm and sooth her, but she would see it as a kindness and would latch on to it, think he wanted her. He reverted back to Dom mode and hated himself for hiding behind the accursed role.

"Touching is forbidden!" he snapped so harshly that she went rigid. "Rinse your hair, quickly. Don't make me wait."

She put her head back and rinsed her hair then quickly sat back up, eager for the next step, already so far gone that she couldn't tell fantasy from reality. "Are we going to the playroom, Master?"

"I did not give you permission to speak!"

"Punish me," she whimpered. "Please? Please, Master, punish me. I want the pain. I need the pain."

His control slipped and he could not hide his shock as he gaped at her. "No!" He was aghast that she would make such a connection, that she would think he would do that.

Dear God, what had he done to this poor woman? She had subbed before; he had never had a woman that hadn't, not until Anastasia , and she knew the consequences, the rules. But had he been too dark for her, even with her experience? Had he been too controlling? Is this what Anastasia tried to tell him, to show him that he couldn't be in control of everyone and everything? That people had feelings and had the right to feel them, no matter what their relationship agreement?

He crouched by the tub and touched her shoulder. "Leila." She lifted confused, tear-filled eyes to him. "I won't punish you. I don't have the right to punish you anymore, do you understand?"

She shook her head, miserably.

"We are no longer together. You have another life now, a better life. Don't you remember?"

Again she shook her head. "He's gone. I'm alone. There's no one. No one but you."

He sighed, he'd lost her again. He reached between her feet and pulled the drain plug. "Stand up." He was grateful when she did so and he grabbed a bath towel, wishing they were of a better quality, but he was in Anastasia's apartment and she didn't have the resources he did regarding such things.

"Master?"

He looked down at her, wishing she would come back to reality. "Yes, Leila?" he asked softly.

"Will…I…" Tears again started to fill her eyes. "Can you hold me? Please?"

He would not deny her and he wrapped the towel and his arms around her, holding her close and kissing the top of her head. "You are not alone, Leila. Let me help you, please?" His clothes were dripping wet, but he didn't care. The woman in his arms needed him, he had to fix this. Somehow he had to fix this.

"He's gone. He's dead. I want to be dead too." She lifted her eyes to his, tears sliding down her cheeks as she stared up at him. "Make it go away? Make me hurt so I don't feel anything anymore? Please?"

"I can't stop the pain, Leila." He caught her tears with the pad of his thumb. "More pain won't help, it will only hurt. You need help."

"I didn't mean it," she whispered as a semblance of reason appeared to flow into her eyes. "I wouldn't have hurt her. I just want to understand. Why can't I understand? Why her? Why is she different? What does she do for you?"

"She completes me," Christian answered truthfully. "I'm sorry, Leila. I never meant to hurt you with this." He never thought this would hurt her. He never considered the feelings of his past subs in regards to what they might think of Anastasia and the publicity that surrounded them.

Would he have trouble with the others, he wondered? He would need to contact them, have them watched, and make sure that this never happened again. God, when had his life become so complicated?

Leila grew still again, quiet and Christian dried her quickly, thoroughly, then saw her eyes start to droop as she started to shiver. He helped her dress and opened the door to the bathroom to find Flynn and a ward nurse standing in the living room.

"No!" Leila pulled back even as Christian tried to pull her forward. "No! Demons! They'll kill me! They'll kill me!"

Christian had to use all his strength to keep her from bolting away from him, he wrapped his arms around her in a vice grip and tried not to let his own panic invade as she thrashed against him. "They're going to help you, Leila!"

"No! No!" She clawed and screamed and twisted as Flynn and the nurse moved forward.

Desperate, Christian tried to order her to be calm. "Be still, Leila!"

The nurse moved forward. "Hold her still."

"What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do, dance a fucking gig with her?" Christian demanded as Leila bit him. "Fuck! Stop it, Leila! They're not going to hurt you!" He watched the nurse pull out a syringe. "What is that?"

Flynn crouched on the other side and caught Leila's arm, holding it down so the nurse could inject her. "Just a sedative," he assured and narrowly missed being bitten himself. "Standard procedure, don't worry."

"Stay with me," Leila whispered and her body relaxed while her eyes locked onto Christian's in horror. "Please. Master keeps me safe. I'm safe with Master."

"Yes, you're safe," he promised and swung her into his arms with a gentleness that screamed of the pity he felt for her. "Go to sleep, Leila. You're safe now."

"Safe." She curled into him as her eyes drooped. "Master keeps me safe."

He carried her down stairs and into the waiting car. He sat with her on his lap as she moaned in her sleep and tried to distinguish between fantasy and reality. He caressed her hair and held her close, but had no sexual thoughts of her as he once had. Leila had been beautiful, funny and daring. The woman he knew did not resemble the waif curled in his arms and he only wanted to protect her.

He also had to protect himself, and Anastasia. He would need to find out what was happening with Leila, what had caused the breaks. He would pay for whatever help she needed, but he needed to make it clear to her, to those that would help her that she could not, must not contact him or Anastasia again. He thought of Anastasia and realized he had not spoken to her since ordering her out of her apartment. She would be furious, but he would just have to make it up to her later. He needed to deal with Leila first.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Spoilers for Fifty Shades Darker. Again there is a lot of the original dialogue in this piece written my E.L. James. On the last chapter there were several comments on the outrage of Christian bathing Leila. It was written that he did and so I included it in my version, because regardless of the morality, it lends to his character.

Anyway, here is the next installment and I really hope you enjoy it. I tried to really pull out his thoughts during this time and I hope you find I have done a decent job of it. Thanks for checking me out and for the reviews. :)

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**CHAPTER TWO**

It took almost three hours to get Leila settled in a private ward room and set her up with the best possible care. Christian had Flynn contact her parents and arranged, anonymously, for them to fly in from Colorado. He had Taylor contact the husband, but the bastard wanted nothing to do with Leila, claiming he wasn't willing to take back defective merchandise that left him to fuck someone else. Taylor had gotten Christian a change of clothes and he'd subsisted on a cafeteria sandwich and horrid coffee, but at least Leila was safe.

It was close to ten when Taylor pulled up to Escala and he and Christian stepped out of the elevator at the apartment. Christian immediately headed for his bedroom, intending to curl up next to Anastasia and fuck her until they both could forget this horrible day. However, he froze in shock when he opened his bedroom door and saw the empty and still fully made bed.

Where was she? Was she still angry with him for ordering her out of the apartment, she got that way sometimes. He headed back downstairs to the guest bedroom, but she wasn't there either. Oh this was stupid! He's had a very rough night and she wanted to play hide and go fucking seek!

"Anastasia!" he called, furious that she might be in one of her moods and deliberately avoiding him. She knew he hated it when she did that. "Anastasia!" He searched the library, his office, the entire apartment, calling her name as his panic grew.

Jesus! Jesus! He pulled out his blackberry and quickly dialed her number, but it went to voice mail. "Fuck!" He called her apartment, but there was no answer. 'No. No, no, no!" Where could she be? Kate? No, Kate was in the Bahamas. "Taylor!" he screamed and a moment later his head of security appeared, entering the foyer at a run, his jacket and tie already off and his shirt half unbuttoned. "Where is she? I told you to bring Anastasia back here!"

Taylor paled as he remembered that the young woman had gone off with her friend for a drink. He had intended to wait for her, but then Dr. Flynn had arrived, and then Mr. Grey had come out and they were headed to the hospital. It had all been so chaotic. "I…" Shit! Shit! His employer's face was almost purple. "She…she went for a drink with the young man, Sir."

"A drink? A drink!" Christian ran his hand through his hair and vaguely recalled Taylor saying something to him about it earlier, but he'd forgotten. "Why did you fucking let her go for a fucking drink with some fucking fuck-wit? Were my instructions not clear enough? Do you need your fucking hearing checked? What did I say, Taylor? What did I fucking say?"

"To…to bring her back here, Sir, but…"

"Then why the fuck isn't she here?" But Christian knew why Anastasia wasn't here, it was because she never listened. She did what she wanted and by God he wanted to beat the shit out of her right then. Beat her into fucking submission so she would just fucking listen!

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'll go back, look for her…"

"You fucking think?" Christian snarled, even though he knew it wasn't Taylor's fault. It was never Taylor's fault, it was Anastasia. Anastasia and her stubborn fucking need to be independent. "Call Sawyer, and Rogers. Get them to help. Find her!"

He spun away and stormed into the great room, his entire body shaking with rage as a torrent of horrific scenarios spun through his mind. What if she'd decided to go back to her place with the fuck-wit? What if he'd gotten her drunk and taken advantage of her, it had happened before, with the boy. She was far to trusting! What if she wasn't answering her phone, because they were too busy fucking like rabbits? What if he was raping her? What if she was enjoying it?

"Fuuuuck!" The image almost tore him in half as he thrust his hands through his hair and pulled. Anastasia's lithe, beautiful body, glistening with sweat as the college preppy rutted against her, kissed her, touched her, fucked her.

He shut his eyes, but it did nothing to block the images, if anything it intensified them. Anastasia with her lips parted, needy, panting, her soft flesh twitching in response and her eyes wide at the surprise she always gets whenever she reaches a climax. Another man watching her reach her peak, feeling it, enjoying it…It didn't belong to him!

"It's fucking mine!" he yelled and picked up the nearest thing his hands touched, which happened to be a crystal vase, and threw it across the room. He watched it shatter into a million pieces, the same as his heart was doing. "She's mine!" Her responses belonged to him! Her orgasms were his, her pleasure, her smiles, her body was his. "God damn it!"

He thought about the horror he had seen in her eyes at the apartment, when he had told her to go. The betrayal, the shock and then the worse scenario of all hit him. Had she left? Had she had enough? She'd promised she wouldn't leave him, that she would give him a second chance. Had the confrontation with Leila been too much?

Of course it was too much, you fool! She saw you with your ex-submissive! She watched you become the monster, and then yell at her to leave, to go away! What had he done? What had Leila done? Should he have taken Anastasia out of there instead of trying to deal with Leila? But she wouldn't have listened to Taylor, she wouldn't…He'd taken control, he had to take control of the situation! Leila had been his problem, his fault and he'd had to fix it. Did Anastasia think he'd abandoned her for Leila?

"But…she said…she loves me." But how could she? How could she love him when she didn't know him, the real him. And he couldn't tell her or she would run, she would run far, far away and he would be alone and without her light and goodness, forever. He didn't deserve her. She was right to leave him, right to run.

The staggering realization brought him to his knees by the piano. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked and rocked and rocked. No control, he had no control again. Where was she? Where was she? Why couldn't she listen? Why couldn't he be normal? Why couldn't he be hearts and flowers? Why couldn't she do as she was told? Why did she have to make everything a fucking issue?

His phone rang and he snapped it up. "Grey!"

"Sir, she isn't at the apartment. It's locked up solid and I checked all the bars within walking distance, she wasn't there."

Christian closed his eyes at Taylor's words. "Have you…" He swallowed, hard as he again thought of Anastasia and Ethan in the throes of passion. "Did you go into the apartment?"

"Yes sir, she isn't there, but her purse is still in the car."

Christian's body almost collapsed in relief and then Taylor's words registered. "Her purse?"

Anastasia wouldn't get very far without her purse. Her phone would be in her purse, which was why he couldn't reach her. Her wallet would also be in her purse. What if Ethan had given her a ride back? No, he didn't have a car; he was a guest in the city.

Another thought occurred to him. What if she had requested a cab back to Escala, intending to pay for it when she got here and had been in a crash? The taxi drivers in this city were monstrous! What if they were speeding or ran a red light and were hit by another vehicle or smashed though a building? His hands pulled at his hair again as he started to pace.

What if she decided to walk back and was assaulted. "Fuck, no. Please, fuck no!" He remembered the phone in his hand and barked into it for Taylor to contact all area hospitals and clinics with Anastasia's name and descriptions and check all the alleys between here and her apartment. The idea of her lying somewhere hurt, bleeding, possibly raped….

He turned, still barking orders to Taylor when he saw her enter. For a moment, he froze in shock. She was back! Anastasia was standing in front of him, alive and unhurt. He finally remembered Taylor on the other end of the phone. "She's here!" He switched off the phone as his pain and worry quickly turned to anger. He'd been worried out of his mind and she just calmly strolls in at quarter fucking past ten at night?

"Where the fuck have you been?"

He wants to go to her, but he's afraid he will hurt her if he goes near her, because he really, really wants to knock the living shit out of her for putting him through this hell. Then he caught a whiff of alcohol and focused on her glassy-eyed look. You've got to be fucking kidding me!

"Have you been drinking?" What the hell was she thinking?

"A bit," she replied, quietly.

Christian couldn't believe his ears. She'd been out drinking? She chose to go fucking drinking instead of coming back to the apartment, where she was supposed to be, where he told her to be. With great effort he reined in his need to throttle her, his rage, his fear, until he felt he was back under control. "I told you to come back here. It's now fifteen after ten." And I've been out of my fucking mind thinking you maimed, or dead, or gone for good! "I've been worried about you."

"I went for a drink or three with Ethan while you attended to your ex," she hissed. "I didn't know how long you were going to be…with her."

Christian couldn't believe she had the gall to use Leila as an excuse for her going out and getting plastered, instead of doing as she was told. His anger spurs him towards her, but he stopped himself and focused on what she had said, the way she had said it. She sounded…hurt, angry. Why was she angry? How could she possibly be angry with him? He wasn't the one that went out drinking with some frat boy.

"Why do you say it like that?" he demanded and watched her shrug and stare at her hands.

Something wasn't right. Something was very not right. Why wouldn't she answer him? Why wouldn't she look at him? How angry was she? Had she finally had enough? Had Leila been the last straw and she finally realized that she couldn't be with someone as fucked up as he was? Had he lost her because of this?

"Ana, what's wrong?" Talk to me! His heart screamed. Tell me what to do! Tell me how to make you stay. You can't leave me! You can't!

"Where's Leila?" she asked and hesitantly lifted her gaze to Christian's.

"In a psychiatric hospital in Fremont." Why was she asking about Leila? Why does she care? It's over and done with. He took care of that. "Ana, what is it?"

He moved forward again until he was standing in front of her. He wanted to pull her into his arms, make her forget about everything that happened, but he knew she'd accuse him of using sex to get his way, to soften her up. He has to ask, has to, but he's afraid of what she'll say. So very afraid. "What's wrong?"

Anastasia shook her head. "I'm no good for you."

Christian stared at her in disbelief. He hadn't expected that! "What?" he whispered alarmed. Didn't she know how much she meant to him? Hadn't he told her enough, showed her enough? Hadn't he been giving her the 'more' that she wanted? He was trying so hard! She was light and sweetness and goodness! It was he that didn't deserve her! "Why do you think that? How could you possible think that?"

"I can't be everything you need."

His eyes widened further and he felt his breath catch in his chest. Shit! She was still on that? He'd told her he would give it up, he would change. He told her they could work on it and he would take whatever she wanted to give because even though he didn't deserve her, he needed her. "You are everything I need."

"Just seeing you with her…"

Christian's lips parted in horror as Anastasia lowered her head and left her sentence unfinished. Did she honestly think he still felt anything for Leila? That he still desired that kind of relationship, that she wasn't enough for him? Hadn't he told her that he loved her? He was a man without a heart, a man with a dark, dangerous, monstrous soul, but he found a way to loved her. She made it possible for him to love her. Why couldn't she believe that she was all he wanted?

"Why do you do this to me? This is not about you, Ana. It's about her." He inhaled sharply at the hot, burning pain that speared his chest. He ran his hand through his hair, searching for focus, needing to control the outrageous, numbing panic that was crawling inside of him. "Right now she's a very sick girl."

"But I felt it…what you had together."

"What? No." What was she talking about? Whatever he had with Leila was in the past! Why couldn't she understand that?

Christian needed to touch her, he knew that if he touched Ana she would calm down and see reason, but as he reached for her she stepped back, avoided his touch. He dropped his hand, slowly as a razor's edge of fear sliced through his knees, his stomach, his heart, his chest and finally across his brain, causing Anastasia to blur before his eyes, become something, someone unreal.

Does she know? Does she suspect the kind of monster he is? He has to tell her. Can he tell her? If he tells her the truth she will run and never come back. She will take back her love, her light, her sweetness and he would be empty and cold and rigid again. He can't tell her, the idea of her knowing his darkness, the vision of her looking at him with those beautiful eyes with hatred and disgust causes bile to rise in his throat.

"You're running?" He could barely get the words out, his throat constricted in terror as he remembered what happened the last time she left. She'd taken all his control with her, he couldn't be without control! He needed control, he needed Anastasia and she was leaving!

Why won't she answer him? Why was she just standing there, looking at him like she was afraid he might attack her at any moment? He didn't mean it when he said he wanted to beat the shit out of her, well, he did at the time, but he would never actually hurt her and she looked afraid of him. Afraid? Of him! She saw the beast in him, when he was with Leila, she glimpsed it and she's running, like he knew she would. But he needs her, he can't be without her!

"You can't." She was everything to him. She kept the darkness away. He would never survive. He could never survive without her, not now, not after she had given him a taste of a normal life.

"Christian…I…"

She couldn't leave him! She mustn't leave him! "No. No!"

"I…."

He glanced wildly around the room. What should he do? What could he do? What more could he give her? He didn't know, didn't understand this….this…any of this! Why was she doing this to him? Why couldn't she be happy with the way he was? Why couldn't he be honest with her and let her go, let her run from him? Jesus! Fuck! What could he say? What more did she need for him to fucking say?

"You can't go, Ana." Panic. Fear. Terror. He'd be alone again. Alone in the darkness! "I love you!"

"I love you too, Christian, it's just…"

"No….no!"His head was swimming, bits of color exploded behind his eyes and as the pain, the ache of the pressure built he feared his head might explode. He slapped his hands to it, pulled hard on his hair. Use the pain! Focus on the pain! God there was so much pain, everywhere was pain!

"Christian…"

What did she need? What did she want? What could he say? What was enough to make her stay? God. God! What could he do? He'd lost it all, every shred of control, every meager slip of identity and confidence had been stripped from him and then, the answer came; an answer that terrified him.

"No," he whispered, his eyes wide with panic, but he knew, he knew this was what it would take. This was all he has left and he had to release it. He has to give her the control, all of the control and Jesus he's so afraid, so afraid of what she will do with it.

It's all he has, all that's left and for her he would do it. For Ana he would do anything. With an unsteady breath, he squeezed his eyes closed and pulled himself back from the brink. He swallowed the fear, the panic, the agony of totally surrendering himself to another and dropped to his knees in front of her, head bowed, his hands spread on his thighs. A deep, cleansing breath, the way Elena had taught him, and then he lets go, utterly and completely.

"Christian, what are you doing?"

His gaze remained lowered. He mustn't look at her until she requests it. He knows the rules. It has been so long, but he would never forget, just as he would never forget the pain, the pain that shielded him from the darkness.

"Christian! What are you doing?" Anastasia cried, half- hysterical at the sight of him on his knees before her. He doesn't move. "Christian, look at me!"

He obeyed her command without hesitation, despite the fear that threatened to choke him. He never knows what she will do. There were no rules, he always had rules before, but with Anastasia there were no rules. She didn't like rules and without rules she might touch him in the forbidden zone. But he had to be still, he had to submit, because he didn't know what else to do and he would rather have her touch him, beat him, do whatever she had to do, then face her leaving him again.

"Christian, please don't do this. I don't want this!"

That wasn't a question! He can't answer her unless she asks him a question. He wants to, he wants to plead with her, beg her to stay, but he can't because he has submitted and now she has all the control. He doesn't know what she wants. He has explored all the options, all the possibilities until there is nothing left but for him to submit. This must be what she wants. This must be it.

"Why are you doing this? Talk to me?" she whispered, appalled.

"What would you like me to say?" he asked passively and just barely bit back the word mistress. She hasn't told him what to call her. If he calls her the wrong thing he would be punished, he would be touched. He must remain still and wait, wait for her to tell him what she needs, what she wants. Wait for an absolution that only she can give him.

Anastasia shook her head as tears flow freely down her face. He can see that she doesn't understand, but he cannot tell her. He tried to tell her, tried to talk to her and she wouldn't listen. Now she has the control, she has to talk and he will listen.

He flinched ever so slightly when the woman he loved dropped to her knees beside him. The urge to smile was strong, because he loved her in this position and because even on her knees he was taller than she, but he doesn't smile. He wants to pull her to him, to wipe away her tears, but he must remain still, quiet, until she tells him what she needs. He doesn't understand, doesn't know what she needs, so she has to tell him. He knows of no other way to get her to talk than to not talk to her and finally, finally she does so.

Anastasia released her fears, her anger, her questions all in one long winded tirade. Christian listened closely to each and every word, searching for the answer, searching for a reason that she would stay, or the reason she wanted to go, but then she started talking about him and that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her to talk about her needs, he didn't care about himself. Why did she always want to talk about him?

He straightened slightly and focused on her face as she asks for time, and rambles about Leila and pours out her heart to him and God, he wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to make love to her on the floor and take away all her confusion and fear, but he has to be patient.

Slowly, slowly he starts to understand why she was angry, why she was afraid. Bit by bit his fear started to recede. She doesn't know. She doesn't know his darkest secret, but he doesn't interrupt her, because this was the most she had ever said to him, face to face, and he needed to know everything. He was tired of working this relationship blind, tired of not understanding her needs and so he let her continue.

Anastasia pleaded with him to talk to her, only now he couldn't. Her heartfelt words had created a wedge in his throat the size of a baseball and he was both awed and ashamed by the things he has heard. She begged again, and again and still he could not say what he needed to say, could not reassure her.

"Please!"

"I was so scared," he whispered finally, and relief flooded him as his voice finally broke through the turmoil.

…_Read Fifty Shades Darker for the rest of this scene._


End file.
